


They Say,

by hoc_voluerunt



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Poetry, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Poetry, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoc_voluerunt/pseuds/hoc_voluerunt
Summary: A series of poems by Martin K. Blackwood, 2016-2018.aka Martin listened toHadestownonce, went on a Wikipedia binge, and started writing.





	They Say,

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that hasn't let me go all week. Disclaimer that I am extremely not a poet, though in my defence, neither is Martin.

1\. [April 2016]

They say,

that a young woman played in a meadow once

and was kidnapped,

pulled down into the earth, where

it was dark and cold, where

shades roamed freely,

filled with forgotten tales and memories.

She was Persephone, he Hades,

who made her his wife, queen of the dead, and,

though her mother grieved,

she ate six pomegranate seeds,

intentionally? perhaps

and stayed for half the year, every year,

as queen and lover.

My mother did not grieve

when you kidnapped me,

pulled me down into the earth, into a basement, where

the pay is higher, where

dust collects on sagging shelves,

filled with forgotten tales and memories.

This was no abduction, and what we have

could not be called a marriage,

but I remain, though you gave me no fruit,

certain that

had you offered

I would have eaten six

at least.

2\. [May 2017]

They say,

that Echo loved the beautiful Narcissus,

and, though she foresaw his fate,

she could not stop it,

could not change his path,

cursed only to repeat.

She had no words of her own, and,

without the power to

warn / confess

she could only watch, and waste away,

alongside her never-lover.

I have no words of my own, here,

am powerless to

confess / warn

that I can see your fate, and it frightens me;

that you are more beautiful than Narcissus, and twice as clever;

that I can't change our paths,

cursed by Hera or my own cowardice to only be heard

in records of past lives.

I can only watch as you waste away,

alongside your never-lover.

3\. [November 2017]

They say,

that Ariadne fell in love at first sight,

with a hero named Theseus,

doomed to death,

so she gave him a sword and a ball of string,

defence and escape

from the Minotaur.

In thanks, he gave her a sea voyage far from home,

where he landed on an island,

and left

alone.

You were no hero,

though you have done heroic things,

and I loved you later than at first sight,

but I would have given you sword and string,

defence and escape,

had they been in my hands.

Your Minotaur was more cunning, your labyrinth more winding,

but I would have lead you out, even knowing that

you would leave

alone.

Because you were not Theseus, headstrong

and ambitious.

You were stubborn,

preferred to learn rather than fight,

preferred to examine the labyrinth end to end,

unravel it and map its turns,

find the danger at its heart, and ask

for its story;

and I am not Ariadne, princess

and traitor.

I need no sea voyage to tell me that

you did not love me

(YOU DID NOT LOVE ME)

at first sight or at last,

shrinking into the distance, over the horizon,

beyond a black sail;

but even so,

I would have given what you needed,

defence and escape,

and everything, infinitesimal or encompassing, that you required

to survive long enough

to leave.

I prefer you shrinking into the distance

than a monster's feast.

4\. [September 2018]

You say,

that I am loved.

Not as the nymph loved the hunter,

or the princess, the hero,

but as Hades loved Persephone:

enough to blight the harvest and bring the cold,

enough to pull me down beneath the earth,

enough to rule at your side, dual kings,

to offer me fruit, of which I will eat

twelve seeds,

intentionally

with love

each bloody drop picked from your fingertips,

to change the world

if only that will mean

peace

for us

for now.

It is not a story of doom, but of

ascendance,

two beings powerful and beloved

balancing the world

and each other.

We love, precarious and gentle,

as only we two can love,

safe as we can be under the earth,

and though they'll say nothing of us, in ages to come,

that is better, and stronger

than any myth.


End file.
